We signed up for a 52 km bike/rafting adventure that included a one-night stay at a local village North of Luang Prabang. Since tourism is relatively new, only one other group of tourists had ever done our trek. We knew we were headed into uncharted territory.
Our trusted guides were an unusually plump native who spoke almost no English and a 23 year-old Luang Prabang local that barely reached Fletch's shoulder.
We started our trek with the 52 km bike ride up the Nam River. The scenery was magnificent. Lush greenery, rolling mountains and only the sound of the moving river and the push of the bike pedals, except when we would pass through one of the local villages.
Due to the limited amount of tourism in Laos, we were a novelty among the locals. So much so that everytime we passed a village the kids would run to the road screaming "farang, farang!" (foreinger) It was almost like a battle cry that would sound off, alerting the villagers to run to the road and gawk at the White People. When we would stop the kids would follow Fletch like the Pied Piper. The women would call "big, handsome man." I was only a little jealous.
A longtime friend of our guide agreed to house us for the night. Upon our arrival they asked us whether we ate pork. When we responded "yes" they set off to hunt a wild boar for our feast. While the village men hunted, Fletch and I explored the village. Our inquisitiveness ended with one of the village elder's dog snapping a good sized cut into my left calf, which then turned into an all night dicussion on how the village men should to kill the dog (we urged them not to). Thank God it wasn't rabid, just ill tempered.
Dinner was a four hour feast consisting of the freshly slaughtered wild boar, dried water buffalo skins, two types of soup, a garden of vegetables, indistinguishable fruits and about four liters of homemade whiskey which included dried bears blood--gold to them. We spent the evening communicating through singing, American songs (and the Canadian National Anthem) for Lao songs. Unfortunately neither Fletch nor I can carry a tune. |
